


For a Moment

by Wolf_of_Lilacs



Category: Political RPF - US 19th c.
Genre: A Dying President, A Formerly Spineless Republican Gets a Spine, Gen, The Sentimentality Makes My Teeth Hurt, Vice Presidential Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 07:46:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7882711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolf_of_Lilacs/pseuds/Wolf_of_Lilacs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A dying president wants to speak to his successor.</p><p>This never happened. If only it had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For a Moment

Chester Arthur sat and waited for something to break the monotony in his rented Washington house, feeling overlooked and underappreciated. Why hadn't they allowed him to see the President? Every time he tried, Stanley Brown reported that the doctors said Garfield couldn't have visitors. It had been five weeks since that Guiteau fellow shot Garfield. Was the President getting worse?

The first time he met Garfield at the Convention, both of them were destined for positions they had not sought, had not expected. They did not speak more than five words to each other that day. Why should they? They represented opposing wings of a bitterly divided party; they had nothing to say.

But what did that matter now?

"Mr. Vice President." He looked up. Garfield's intrepid secretary/doorman stood at the entrance to his study, a scrap of paper in his hand.

"The President has succeeded in convincing his doctors that he must see you, sir," Stanley Brown said brusquely.

Arthur's mouth went dry. "Is that so?"

"Between you and me, the President has little time left," Stanley Brown continued. "The reports that have been released aren't truthful."

"Take me to him," Arthur sighed.

"Right this way," Stanley Brown said, gesturing far more grandly than the situation warranted.

The President lay cocooned in rumpled, sweat-soaked sheets. The bones of his face jutted out, his gray skin stretched taut. His vitality, once so remarked upon, had vanished. The air of the room was heavy with the stench of infection and vomit.

"All the reports claimed you are healing well," Arthur protested, gazing down at this clearly dying man.

"Have to keep the people's hope alive," Garfield replied, his voice rough. "And these doctors can't appear to be failing to save a President. ... Have I missed much?"

"I, ah, couldn't say," Arthur admitted sheepishly. "The world is still spinning, in case you had doubts. The economy is working well for successful capitalists. Roscoe Conkling is failing to win reappointment to the Senate. ... That's about it, I think."

"Good," Garfield quipped, coughing. "I'm glad science is the same since Guiteau, and that not even Roscoe's immune to natural political consequences." He reached out a hand unsteadily to grasp Arthur's. "Don't let the Democrats and Stalwarts ruin everything I'm trying to build."

Had the President forgotten to whose protégé he spoke? "What were you trying to build?" Arthur replied, in an attempt to forestall potential embarrassment. "You never had much of a chance to show it."

"I know," Garfield sighed. "But please don't do whatever Conkling wants."— _Ah, there we go._ —"You're better than that." He weakly squeezed Arthur's hand. Arthur returned the grip firmly.

"We'll never know what we might have been," the President croaked, his voice softer than before.

"No," Arthur agreed. "But Conkling doesn't speak for me now. I speak for me. And—" He paused awkwardly. “—and I will do all the things you were hoping to do."

"Thank you," Garfield whispered. "Vice Presidents deserve far more credit." Rolling over in obvious agony, he fell into an uneasy sleep.

Arthur watched him for a time, wondering anxiously what his future would hold. _Whatever comes_ , he vowed, _I will not let him or the country down._

"Time to leave, Mr. Vice President," Stanley Brown said quietly. Arthur nodded amiably and followed him out.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a scene in Kenneth Ackerman's _Dark Horse_.


End file.
